The Disgraced Lords Series 3-Book Bundle

by Bronwen Evans

  The way he said prepared made her insides tighten with nausea.

  “No one will be suspicious of me leading you into the ladies’ quarters. I am a eunuch, after all. Guards are tolerated as long as they are with me.”

  The man who had just dragged the inert bodies of the two guards behind two very large urns holding palm trees came over then, and she’d never been so pleased to see her younger brother. The smile Philip gave her warmed her down to her very soul. Trying to keep the tears from welling in her eyes, she blinked several times.

  “Well then, let’s get this over with,” she said. She really did want to get out of here as soon as possible, and she was still very aware that she wore only her undergarments and was holding her dress in front of her. “Do I have time to put my dress back on?”

  Hassan shook his head. “That would not be wise. People would begin to wonder why I let you re-dress.”

  Trying to wrap her shift and dress more firmly around her, she was very aware that Grayson followed her every move. There was something lurking in his eyes, but she couldn’t quite work it out. It wasn’t lust exactly, but it was certainly interest. The woman in her couldn’t help but respond to his perusal.

  Hassan led the group off, with Portia walking behind him. Philip and Grayson followed as if they were the two guards.

  “We need to move more quickly, Hassan,” Grayson told him. “Philip left the unconscious guards behind the big potted plants, but it won’t take the others long to find them. We must get moving.”

  Hassan led them through a maze of corridors until they came to an area of the palace that Portia had not seen before. She could hear women’s voices laughing and giggling in the background. He led them into a room that was full of large cushions and silks. There were a few women lounging on the cushions, picking fruit out of a fruit bowl, and generally chatting and laughing—much as Portia did with her friends, she noticed. They smiled and called greetings to Hassan. He nodded to acknowledge them but kept walking through the room and out into a corridor on the far side. They continued down another set of corridors until she could see steam coming out of an archway directly in front of them.

  As they passed through the archway, the heat hit her immediately. In front of them was a large pool of steaming water. Luckily, no one was in the water; however, two women in various stages of undress with towels wrapped around had obviously just finished their bath.

  Portia’s gaze flew to Grayson, and her face colored as she realized both her brother and Grayson were ogling the women with obvious interest. They were beautiful. Their hair was long and black, their bodies lush and curvy, and their skin a light olive color. Jealousy hit fast and hard.

  Hassan clapped his hands. Both women turned around and looked at the visitors with interest. Before either of them could approach or speak, however, Hassan let off a string of words in Arabic. The women looked at each other in surprise, then quickly gathered their things and left.

  “I hope you can all swim,” Hassan said to them as he moved toward the pool. “The drain leads to the sewers that run underneath the palace and out to the city.”

  Portia sucked in a breath. “You are expecting us to go down the drains?”

  Hassan shrugged “There is no other way out of the palace without the guards being alerted. I have authority in the harem, but I have no authority to get anyone out through the palace gates.”

  “How long will we have to hold our breath?” Grayson asked.

  “Not for long. Once you swim through the drain, you emerge into the sewer system, which is very large; the water will not be very high. It is just while you swim down through the water outlet that you will need to hold your breath.”

  Portia relaxed somewhat. She was not the world’s best swimmer, but she was fairly competent. She should be able to hold her breath long enough to get down into the sewer. As long as she had Grayson and Philip with her, everything would be all right.

  “Strip off your undergarments,” Grayson told her. “Hassan will give you his top to cover yourself. Leave your gown—it is only going to drag you down in the water, and we need to be able to move as fast as possible.” Portia realized with horror she was going to have to undress in front of her brother and Grayson.

  “How far does the sewer run, and how long will it take us to get out into the city?” Grayson went on, addressing the question to Hassan, as Philip began removing his Arab robes down to just his breeches and shirt.

  “If you keep heading north, it should go for at least three leagues underneath the palace and then you will come out on the other side. There is a bit of a drop over the wall to get down into the city, but it is the safest way for you to escape.”

  Grayson’s response to his words was a fist that slammed straight into Hassan’s face, knocking him out cold. At Portia’s cry, Grayson explained, “It needs to look like we overpowered him. He can’t be held responsible or his life will be forfeit. Did you want that for him?” Portia merely shut her mouth, turned away, and began to pull the shift back on over her naked torso, the dress forgotten at her feet.

  Grayson stood with hands on hips, staring at her. He looked her up and down from toes to head and back again. Finally he spoke. “You are going to have to lose the drawers as well.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You expect me to leave here in just my shift?”

  “We have secured help from the British consulate. There will be blankets waiting once we reach the city wall. You will be able to wrap them around yourself once we get free of this place.”

  Portia swallowed back a denial, as she knew it was pointless. Escape was the priority. She knew as soon as she got into the water that her shift would be virtually transparent. But what did it matter? Grayson had probably already seen her nearly naked when she was stripped before the sultan. For one brief moment she wondered what he had thought. Did he find her attractive? Was she the sort of woman who roused his lust?

  What a funny thing to think in the face of such danger. She reached under her shift, undid the ties to her drawers, and let them fall to the ground, briefly wondering what her brother thought of their situation. He remained tight-lipped, vigilantly watching the entrance.

  Grayson gestured to him and said, “We really do need to move. It is not going to be long before those guards are found.” Then he sat, took off his boots, and headed toward the pool. He paused and, with a sweep of his arm, told her, “After you, my lady.”

  With trepidation, Portia slid into the warm water, unable to suppress a shiver. She didn’t know how long she was going to have to hold her breath or whether she would drown this day. Quite frankly, she would prefer drowning than to have to submit to the sultan in any way. For courage, she looked to Grayson, who reached out and swiped a finger down her cheek.

  “It’s going to be all right, little one. If you keep hold of my hand, I will pull you through. Just make sure you take a big breath and let it out slowly. Don’t panic. If you feel as though you are going to run out of air, just squeeze my hand and I will pull you along faster.”

  She merely nodded, too afraid to speak.

  “I’ll go first,” Philip said suddenly, and he pulled the lever that Hassan had shown them, the one that would slide back the stone slab covering the drain. As the water began to flow through the drain, Philip dove and disappeared down the drain. It was quite wide, broad enough for two people to fit through.

  “This is it. Take my hand and keep your eyes closed. Trust me.” And with that, suddenly Portia felt herself being swept through the water as it began to flow with rapidly increasing velocity.

  Chapter Four

  It seemed like forever, but it was really only a few seconds before they reached the end of the drainway and with a large splash hit the stiller water in the sewer. They began swimming, and it wasn’t long before the ground leveled out and they found their feet on a cobblestoned bottom.

  Grayson spoke to Portia. “It’s okay now—you can open your eyes. The water is only waist deep.”


  The air smelled musty and damp, but at least it was life-affirming. The sewer was dark, the only light coming from the drain of the pool behind them.

  “Damn, I should have thought to bring a flint to light our way.” Philip’s tone indicated how annoyed he was.

  “It would have been too wet anyway,” Grayson said. “We are going to have to feel our way along and walk slowly. That is not going to help us, for speed is of the essence.”

  The stones of the sewer beneath Portia’s feet were worn smooth from the water. “Then we’d best get moving,” she said, and moved up behind Grayson, taking his hand in hers. She reached back, offering her other hand to Philip, and he took it.

  Grayson merely nodded and began to walk feeling along the wall with his other hand. The further they moved from the bathing room, the darker the tunnel got. It wasn’t long before up ahead they saw a light. As they drew nearer it was obvious that it was a grate in the courtyard above for rain and water to drain through. Grayson came to a halt and whispered softly, “We have to move quietly. If anyone is above the grate, they will hear us. No talking, and try to keep your movements smooth so as not to splash.”

  They inched ever closer, and as quietly as they possibly could, they passed underneath the grate. Portia noted that they were still well within the palace, as she recognized the palm trees filling the palace’s courtyard. She had come through the courtyard three days earlier, when she had been brought to the palace.

  Portia had no idea how much time had gone by, but she realized they were heading the right way, as every few hundred yards another grate would light their way and they were able to see that they were still heading north, as Hassan had instructed them. She also noted that the floor began to slope away. They were walking downhill. She knew the Palace sat on top of a cliff, and she hoped that the jump Hassan had mentioned was not going to be too high.

  Finally they came to a dead end. The tunnel turned hard right and dropped sharply, but straight ahead, high on the end wall, was a much larger grate right in front of them. Grayson put his finger to his lips indicating that they should be quiet, and he moved closer to have a look. Hassan had not lied—outside the grate was the ring road that went around the palace. The grate did lead them outside the palace walls; unfortunately, it was also quite high up the wall. It would be a drop of at least thirty feet. Grayson turned to Philip and said, “It’s quite a ways down, and we don’t have enough clothes to rope together to lower her. I suggest one of us climb down and find the consulate staff who are supposed to be here to help us.”

  Portia immediately shook her head. “I don’t want to be left here. I just want to get out.”

  As Grayson and Philip looked at each other over her head, she was infuriated with the way that the men decided they were going to make all of the decisions. She was at just as much risk as they were. “I can climb just as well as either of you.”

  Philip shrugged. “She’s right. She always could climb better than either of us, and she doesn’t have any skirts that are going to hinder her.”

  “But if anyone sees her they will know something’s up.”

  Philip turned to her. “He is right, Port. It would be so much easier if the consulate guards were there with the horses. We can’t let you run naked down the street, for it would cause too much talk and set the alarm bells ringing. Anyone who saw you would have a good idea where you had come from. We really need the horses here. I’ll go, and Grayson can stay here with you.”

  Grayson shook his head. “No. It would be better if you stayed with your sister and I went in search of the consulate support. I was the one who organized them. You can then help your sister down when I come back with the horses.”

  Portia realized that they were wasting time arguing. “Just go, Grayson. The sooner you go, the sooner you will be back. Just be careful.”

  With a brisk nod and one final look at her, Grayson pushed his weight against the grate. The grate was old and in disrepair, and it gave way at one corner quite easily. He pushed it out far enough for him to slip through the gap, and Portia watched with her heart in her throat as he made his way down the stone wall, wedging his fingers and toes into the cracks. It didn’t take him very long to reach the ground. Luckily, no one seemed to take notice of him.

  “You have got some explaining to do, young lady, once we get out of this mess,” Philip said, swinging around to face her.

  “I hardly think now is the time to chastise my behavior.” Portia resisted the urge to drop her head in her hands. “It’s a long story, brother dear, and it is not of my making.”

  “Who did you go to meet in Vauxhall Gardens that night?” Philip asked. She could tell by his tone that he was sorely disappointed in her.

  —

  Grayson tried to ignore the sharp stones under his bare feet. All he could think about was finding the men from the British consulate as soon as possible. The soldiers had the three horses, which were their only means of escape. Due to his tattered clothes, his tanned skin, and his long untamed hair, he seemed to blend in quite well with the ragged crowd, many of whom probably thought him a poor beggar.

  He noticed that he was breathing heavily, and it wasn’t really from exertion. It was more from fear. He had fought in the Battle of Waterloo, but nothing frightened him as much as the danger facing the young girl hiding in the sewer above. Young girl? He laughed to himself. There was nothing young about her anymore. At the age of four and twenty, she was a full-grown woman, and even though he tried to suppress them, images of her naked body kept flashing in his mind. He hadn’t seen Portia for several months, but as soon as he laid eyes upon her face he’d known he was in trouble. His body flared to excited life at the mere sound of her voice. To see her near-naked limbs and transparent shift…What was worse still was the guilt that ate at him. The only reason she was in this predicament was because of him. For some reason an unknown enemy had decided to use her as a pawn in a very dangerous game.

  He picked up his pace, ignoring the sun beating down on his head. All he could think about was reaching the consulate personnel as soon as possible. He rounded the corner of the bazaar and found himself on one of the main streets. Up ahead of him he could see the men the consulate had provided for the rescue. They had brought three spare horses, one of them fitted with a woman’s saddle.

  Captain Foyle turned and spotted him straightaway. The British wheeled their horses around and came galloping toward him.

  “I say, my lord, are you all right?”

  Grayson didn’t have time to explain anything further. He simply looked at the captain and said, “Please have your men come with me, and bring the extra horses. Time is of the essence—they will be looking for us by now. I’m pretty sure that they must have found the guards, so we have only one chance at getting away.”

  He ignored the captain’s suggestion that he change into suitable clothes and promptly swung himself onto a saddle. He waved over his shoulder for the men to follow him and started cantering back down through the streets.

  It only took him a few moments to get back to the wall. Unfortunately, as they drew nearer he saw some of the sultan’s armed men in the street approaching them. His state of his undress and the number of men on horseback must have made them suspicious, as they began shouting in Arabic.

  Captain Foyle translated. “They want to know where you have come from and why you are wet.”

  “Tell them I dunked myself in one of the barrels behind the stable.” He sat tensely on his horse as Captain Foyle relayed his words.

  The guards talked among themselves for a few moments, glancing back at the men suspiciously, but then gave them a nod and went on their way. Grayson watched until they reached the end of the lane and turned the corner of the palace’s wall. Only then did he call up to Philip and Portia.

  “Captain Foyle, we are going to need some of that rope to get Portia down.”

  Before he had even finished speaking, he looked up to see Portia already through
the grate and carefully picking her way down the wall as if she were a little monkey. Her shift was still wet and it clung to her, giving everybody in the street below a clear view of the beauty that lay beneath the cloth. The men with him did not avert their eyes, and Grayson couldn’t believe the surge of anger and possessiveness that flooded his veins. “Eyes downward,” he called sternly.

  He was off his horse in one swift jump, grabbing a blanket as he went, and as soon as she reached the ground he wrapped the blanket around her, covering her from all the male eyes still fixed on her.

  Unfortunately, just as Philip was starting down the wall the palace guards came back around the corner. Upon seeing Portia, they gave a massive shout and started charging toward the group.

  Captain Foyle and his men wheeled their horses around and moved in front of Grayson and Portia to protect them. Grayson ran for his horse and pulled Portia up into his arms, settling her in front of him. To Philip he yelled, “I’m going to go for the boat. If you don’t make it there within the hour, we must set sail without you. I can’t afford to leave her in Alexandria a moment longer than that—the sultan will surely come after us.”

  “Of course. Don’t worry about me—I’ll be right behind you.” Just as he uttered those words he slipped from near the top of the grate and crashed to the ground with a scream of pain.

  “Christ, I think I’ve broken my leg,” Philip cried in agony. “You are going to have to take her back to England by yourself—I would just slow you down. I’ll make sure the consulate looks after me. Just get Portia out of here. Promise me!”

  Grayson simply waved his hand and took off, counting on the armed British men to screen them from the view of the palace guards. As he turned into the bazaar, out of the corner of his eye he saw even more guards pouring out from the palace gates, and he prayed Philip and the other men would get away.